


whatever it takes to turn this around

by lynne_monstr



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Magnus gets his magic back, and isn't accepting him being mundane, in the sense that his magic loves him, magnus/his magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 08:18:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16446194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynne_monstr/pseuds/lynne_monstr
Summary: Magnus may have lost the magic but the magic hasn't lost him.Alec tilts his head, thinking. “So you’re saying certain magic likes certain warlocks.”“In a manner of speaking. And it appears my old magic isn’t willing to let me go so easily.”Written for Flufftober Day 28: Established Relationship





	whatever it takes to turn this around

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure how to use this prompt for malec so instead we have magnus x magic (in addition to malec, of course). Not that I need an excuse to ramble about magical theory, but it was nice to have anyway.

They’re in the kitchen cooking dinner when it happens.

Magnus is mixing the cheeses together and Alec is manning the stove. Admittedly, Magnus may be somewhat distracted by the way Alec sways his hips in time with the music that drifts in from old gramophone in the living room. But really, who could blame him? He can’t be expected to resist the movement of Alec’s strong shoulders and his cute butt and the way the rune on his neck peeks out from under his t-shirt.

Magnus wants to run his hands over every inch of him.

The moment of distraction costs him, and his next stir is a little too enthusiastic. The glass bowl he’s holding jumps from his grip onto the floor.

It’s second nature to wave his hand, even though he knows— _he knows_ —that it’s a useless gesture, and that way lies pain and devastation and all the things he wants so desperately not to think about on this nice night in with his boyfriend.

The bowl freezes in midair.

Magnus gasps, eyes flicking back and forth from the bowl of ricotta cheese to his hands.

The noise jolts Alec from his cooking and he twirls, one hand going to his thigh for a weapon that isn’t there. Magnus can see the moment he sees.

Alec freezes in place. “Magnus,” he whispers, eyes wide. “Your magic.”

 _I know_ , Magnus mouths back at him. He’s afraid to speak, afraid to move, like if he does he’s going to break the spell. Literally, in this case.

It should be funny, two grown men standing stock still, staring at a bowl hovering just inches from shattering onto the floor.

Magnus has been flung into walls, hit and kicked, blasted with red hot magic, and threated with a seraph blade at his throat, and he’s always gotten right back up. Thrown himself back into the fray. Whoever would have guessed it would be kitchenware to finally paralyze him.

A thin stream of laughter breaks the silence and he realizes it’s coming from him.

This should be impossible.

The spell his father performed on him had leached the demon blood from his very veins, leaving him in a fully mundane body. Every warlock knew that mundanes can’t channel magic. It’s a proven fact. Immutable. Magnus knows, because he was part of the team of warlocks who finally found the proof. Even at this very moment, he can’t sense the magic in the air that he knows is all around him. Can’t attempt to drop the glamour from his eyes because there’s no glamour to drop. Even the power holding the stupid bowl in the air feels out of his control.

All of this doesn’t change the fact that his hands are wreathed in wisps of blue.

“You see it too, right?” Magnus asks, suddenly needing to be sure.

“Yeah.”

In two large strides, Alec is across the kitchen. His hands are warm on Magnus’ face and then they’re kissing. Magnus gasps against his mouth, pressing himself as close as he can get. He had magic at his hands and Alec at his lips and it’s still not enough. Need boils over within him until it’s all he can think about.

All of the lights in the kitchen explode, plunging them into darkness.

Dinner burns but neither of them cares.

.

The day after the kitchen incident he tries to summon coffee from his favorite café in Paris and nothing happens. Alec finds him on his knees on the kitchen floor, surrounded by the shattered remains of their coffee pot that Magnus hurled at the wall.

Those are the days he still feels fully mundane and he wants to scream until his voice goes hoarse with it.

.

Increasingly, he feels the gentle brush of magic up against his skin, seeping itself into his pores like it can fill his newly mundane body to the brim. He spends those days seeking out the edges of this strange new strength, determining what he can do and how long it lasts. All the while, cradled by the power he’s known his entire life, a lifelong companion coming home to him. Surrounding him and comforting him.

He feels compelled to seek out Alec during these times. Wants to be pressed close to the other constant in his life. The length of his relationship with Alec is a brief spark compared to the lingering comet trail of his magic’s presence, but it burns no less bright. When he’s happy, like he is now, there’s no other place he’d rather be than with the man he loves.

Like now, stretched sideways along the couch, his legs in Alec’s lap. The faint hum of magic is soothing against his skin. It comes from the outside, rather than the inside like it did before Edom, but Magnus is so grateful for its presence that he finds he can’t resent the difference.

“How is this even possible?” Alec asks, lazily stroking at Magnus’ ankle. Behind them, a cocktail assembles itself on Magnus’ drinks cart.

Magnus gives a full body stretch, pushing his foot further into Alec’s grasp.

“I haven’t found any definitive answers yet.” Magnus waves a hand. The martini glass disappears in a flash, only to reappear a moment later in Alec’s hand. “No one knows. The Spiral Labyrinth is in an uproar trying to figure it out.”

“And that’s where you’ve been all day?”

“Yes.” Magnus takes a sip of his own drink, relishing the tang of fruit and gin on his tongue.

He hasn’t been of a mind to make colorful, flighty drinks but now with the magic, even this strange sort of half magic, back in his life, a raspberry sour sounded divine. And it tastes perfect, too, sweet and sour mixing on his tongue like a dream. Good to know he hasn’t lost his touch behind a bar, figuratively speaking.

Alec laughs and runs his hands upwards, under Magnus’ loose lounge pants to stroke along his calf. “’No definitive answer,’” he mimics in a parody of Magnus’ voice. Before Magnus can get too ruffled about it, Alec continues. “That means you have a theory. What is it?”

A warmth fills Magnus’ stomach that has nothing to do with the gin, or his magic. Alec knows him so well. It should scare him, how incapable he is at hiding from Alec anymore. How this beautiful, perceptive Shadowhunter so effortlessly crashes through all his walls to see the real him.

He should be terrified at how he makes no effort to rebuild them. He wants Alec to know him, to see him as he is. Each time Alec goes deeper and doesn’t flinch back, the greedier Magnus gets. He still hides, still deflects—centuries of self-preservation are a hard habit to break—but each time, Alec only finds his way in quicker.

Magnus should be scared at how easily Alec can hurt him now. He’s not.

“I think it’s the magic. Undoing Asmodeus’ spell.” Magnus finally says, trying to put into words what he’s been feeling the past several days. The way he feels his body changing, a little less mundane and a little more warlock each day. He doesn’t dare get his hopes up but it’s hard not to. “I think it…misses me,” is what he finally decides on.

As if in agreement, A pleasant warmth rushes into his fingertips where he holds his martini by the stem. He lets it rush through him and out of him. Tiny yellow sparks bounce up the glass to dance along the rim.

“I didn’t think magic was sentient.”

“That’s the general consensus,” Magnus agrees. “However it’s still hotly debated in certain circles. It’s always been my belief that magic has its own sort of will at play. Certain spells come easier for certain warlocks and not all of it can be explained by magical proficiency.”

And that’s another thing he never thought he’d have, an edge of wonder creeping into his thoughts. A Shadowhunter he could share his fascination of magic with. Alec isn’t an expert by any means, but he listens when Magnus goes off on his tangents. Oftentimes, his comments are a fresh perspective that gives Magnus the jump he needs in his own research.

Alec tilts his head, thinking. “So you’re saying certain magic likes certain warlocks.”

“In a manner of speaking. And it appears my old magic isn’t willing to let me go so easily.” He gives a laugh that once upon a time would have been bitter, before he met Alec. Before Alec had pried open the empty dark spaces inside his life and made his home in Magnus’ chest. “I used to say that the magic was my longest lasting relationship.”

“It loves you,” Alec says, simply. “Something we have in common.” His eyes are soft as takes the glass from Magnus, setting both drinks on the coffee table and replacing Magnus’ empty hand with his own. He brings their joined hands to his lips to brush a kiss against Magnus’ knuckles.

Magnus feels his heart expand, so large and so full that he wonders how he doesn’t float right off the couch.

Making the drinks has taken a lot out of the tentative magic he now has access to, but he gathers up the rest of it and gives a tiny nudge. Like a live wire, the little yellow sparks that still linger race between their joined fingers, eagerly flowing up Alec’s hand to twine like fingers around his wrist.

Alec looks at the bits of magic like it’s something precious.

The distance between them is suddenly far too large. Magnus surges up, straddling Alec’s lap and kissing the sweet cocktail off his lips. “I think it likes you, too,” he says, before diving in for more.

.

A month later Magnus sits in front of his vanity mirror and sees his true eyes glowing gold back at him.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

The magic inside him rushes towards his fingers and toes in a happy wave before receding. Magnus doesn’t need words to know what it means.

_It’s good to be home. ___

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come find me on tumblr!  
> lynne-monstr.tumblr.com


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